Pain
by IndigoNightandRayneStorm
Summary: Dean saves Anna from dying, but pain is never truly gone. Oneshot. Scenes of Sex. Bad writing, er, just kidding.


**So I was a little pissed that Dean and Anna seemed to like forget they had a sexual relationship when she reappeared in season five, so I decided to bring that up again. This would take place toward the end of 5.13 once Michael has taken over John's body.**

His world was blurry. He rolled over. He couldn't see much.

Sam hurt.

John… no it wasn't John…

Anna. Anna was afraid. Anna was scared. Anna.

He stood, and he hurt like hell. But he was always hurting. Pain, that was normal. Pain was part of it all. It hurt, but he endured it, he survived it, and he threw some dirt in the cuts, he winced, he cried, he screamed, and then he turned the keys and drove off. He moved on, and he kicked the pain in the ass. His mother. His father. Bela. Ash. Pamela. Ellen. Jo. Dean looked at Sam… no breath, no movement. No life. Pain. He found a knife, discarded, dropped. He sliced his hand open, and it hurt. He drew quickly with blood and he hit the symbol, sending light blasting through the room.

He woke in a motel. He looked around and saw no Sam, no Castiel. He stood and regretted it immediately. He fell back down. He looked over and noticed some aspirin and a glass on water sitting on the table by the bed. He quickly swallowed them.

"You saved me. I killed your brother." There was no question in her voice, no uncertainty. She was not making excuses or trying to explain herself. She was being honest.

"Sam was already dead. You weren't."

"You love Sam. You love him more than anyone."

"What is your point?"

"Letting me die would be revenge."

"Except then I'd be alone."

"You have Castiel."

"Are you upset I did it?"

"No."

"Then quit bitching. You're making me regret it."

"Dean I didn't want this. I would kill myself if it'd stop it, bring Sam back, make things okay. But it won't. Do you want me to, Dean?"

"No."

"I brought you something to eat."

Dean raised an eyebrow and glanced toward her. She dropped a greasy bag down, "Burger." He grabbed it and ate it, not caring if he looked like a pig. She moved over and pushed his hair back, running her hand through his hair. He slapped her hand away, threw the burger and stood, slamming her into the wall, attacking her mouth. He pinned her hands above her head. Pain. Pain and relief.

His hands fumbled for zippers and buttons and in one thrust he sheathed himself inside of her. She cried out, pain, or maybe pleasure. He thrust and he kissed her, not gentle, not loving. No adoration, no tenderness, nothing but pain. Nothing but hurt. Nothing but anger and disgrace and mind numbing tearing in his heart that seized him and ripped him to shreds inside, as he rammed into her, with growls of fury and passion. He didn't stop, he couldn't stop, the pain, the horrible pain, it rose in him, and in overtook him, it filled him, it poured out, and he screamed. He kissed her, and he bit her lips and tongue and there was blood and he drank it, and she made sounds of intense agreement, and he swallowed blood, and he swallowed pain. He hated it and he loved it and she broke free of his hold and wrapped her arms around him and gripped his hair and pulled as she sucked down his face and along his neck, she bit, and she tasted the metallic taste of blood, and he groaned and cursed. Dean moved faster, almost as if he felt the wall would crack into a thousand pieces, and they would fall into nothing, getting lost in the pain and lost in the sorrow and lost in the loss. The loss was intense, never ending, never faltering, life went on, but people didn't, people died, people left, people didn't come back and Dean could feel himself grow teary eyed, and that made him scream more. Anna bit harder and scraped her teeth across his flesh and Dean moved, slamming into another wall and ripping her shirt from her body. He found perky breasts and hard nipples and he leaned down, situated himself and bit, bit hard. Her head fell back and slapped the wall, rubbing against it as she rose up and down, legs and arms pinning their bodies as he let her back ease away from him to gain better access. He felt so much pain, but in the moment, he lost it, and he couldn't find it, the pain, it was eclipsed by pleasure and hunger and desperation and need and love and he rose up, too quickly, and tore a little flesh, Anna locked eyes with him, and he kissed her, and held the kiss as they both came, both lost their pain, both lost their sorrow, both forgot to hate and cry and die, and lived, and loved and found everything, everything missing.

Exhausted, Dean dropped down to the bed, and remained inside of her. Her skin came together in the places torn and for a moment he sat and wished his insides, his heart and his body and his soul could stitch together as easy as an Angel.

But he was human. And humans felt pain.


End file.
